“Darling! I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t made an engagement, have you?”
“But I have, dear.”
“Where?” he asked impatiently. It was none of his business. But she said:
“Mr. Smull asked me to dine with him and Frank Donnell. Are you going to be lonely, dear?”
“Where are you dining?” he demanded impatiently.
She did not resent it: “In Mr. Smull’s apartment.”
“Do you think that’s the thing to do?” he asked sharply.
“Darling! Isn’t it?”
“Are you accustomed to dine with married men in apartments which they maintain outside their homes?”